


One Swallow Doesn't Make A Summer

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very reasons why Philip adored Thomas were the very reasons why he had to leave him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Swallow Doesn't Make A Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I wish you a warm welcome.
> 
> The idea that the Duke of Crowborough had underlying romantic feelings for Thomas was an idea that had been floating around in my head since I watched the first episode of Downton. This story is not original in any way but I have written this short little one-shot for fun...bittersweet fun but still, fun.
> 
> I'm in the process of writing the next installment for my longer story, 'Needs Must' but I had a spare half an hour today so I wrote this as I sat in the sunshine.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

There was something in the way Thomas Barrow moved and spoke that attracted Philip like a moth to a flickering flame. He was a person of great vitality; young, strong and perfectly composed just as a good footman should be. What set him apart from the other servants that Philip had previously taken to bed was his poise. On the surface the man was perfect, as beautiful as an oil painting or a watercolour sketch. His actions, from his gait to his exquisite expressions, always held a great deal of mystery and intrigue, artfully serving to create an air of sensual allurement but whether this was always intentional on Thomas’s part, well that depended on the man’s motive. He was a crafty bugger, practically an artist of mater manipulation and scheming and John was not foolish enough to believe that the pale man in his arms was an innocent soul. He had made unkind, cutting remarks about other servant’s, members of the gentry, the people they passed in the street. His wit matched Philip’s own and although it had irritated him slightly at first, the Duke saw that in all honest truth, the footman’s intelligence far surpassed his own. Had Thomas been able to attend Eaton and Oxford as he had done, the young footman could be running for Prime Minister now. It was exhilarating, exhausting, intoxicating and incredibly addicting to devote so much attention to one very finicky, calculating young man. Thomas suffered more mood swings and changes of heart in an hour than Philip had done his entire life but it was extraordinary to observe a member of the working classes behaving in such a temperamental manner, for Philip had normally found that it was his own kind who made a fuss. Perhaps in a former life Thomas had truly been a Lord.

Still, beneath his cold, often cruel exterior, Philip knew that a warm heart beat inside the footman’s marble chest. The one quality that truly redeemed Thomas of all his sins was his astounding ability to always remain a faithful disciple of love. He was a fan of beautiful literature, the work of Keats and Lord Byron in particular, and despite every hardship and very heartache that life had thrown at him, his firm belief in fairy-tale love had never extinguished, it still burned brightly within him. This quality, so rare in a man, was the deciding factor for Philip that he could absolutely fall in love with this ridiculous boy. Thomas was enchanted under Philip’s spell, as equally as Philip was under his. They were drawn to each other like magnets and both men allowed themselves to be carried away by their whirlwind affair, dreaming of a secret life together in London and many trips to the far off lands of Italy, America and India. Their sweet summer dalliance was as beautiful as a warm sunset or a daisy swaying in a gentle breeze. The nights they spent together were precious and Philip ached every time the early rising sun woke them from their dreams to tear Thomas away from his arms. All the velvet, silk and plum wine in the world could never save them as time stood for no man.

The very reasons why Philip adored Thomas were the very reasons why he had to leave him. Every moment spent in the company of the handsome footman was another cause for an identity crisis and another temptation to walk away from the suffocating aristocracy and social expectations. Thomas’s bold disregard for class divisions and the teachings of the church had great effect on Philip and the young man’s highly controversial opinions appealed to the Duke’s rebellious nature. Ever since he was a boy, Philip had loved everything until he didn’t, the only exception being Thomas. Despite his own displeasure with the heavy burdens that lay upon his shoulders, Philip knew that the one thing he could never lose was his family’s honour and wealth. His father had gambled his life and away and paid a great price. Poker, roulette, drinking games; such tomfoolery had once been his favourite pastime and he had spent hours in the London clubs with his dearest friends, throwing caution to the wind as their money dwindled away. His father’s love of gabling ran through his blood but this time, Philip knew that the stakes were too high. Loving Thomas was a liability and too great a distraction. The Duke’s attention needed to gear towards finding himself a wealthy heiress who could provide his family with a fine heir. She needed to be rich, cultured and ideally, she would prefer the company of another woman but if the latter was any sort of issue, his mother had promised Philip that she could smell a scandal a mile off. In return for a handsome husband and a title, his future wife will be told to turn a blind eye to her husband’s private affairs.

In a perfect world, Philip would hire Thomas as his personal valet and take the boy with him wherever he went. His wife could remain at home and spend her time shopping or painting or doing whatever it was women liked to do when amusing themselves. She could take up with the gardener or the damn butler if she wished, Philip would care little. Unfortunately, this could not be. He was too obvious around Thomas, too uncontrollable and too distracted by the beautiful footman’s mind, body and, dare he even say such nonsensical romantic sap, his _soul_. He had even taken to writing _letters_ to Thomas, letters to a servant! It had been his ridiculous idea, not Thomas’s for Philip had been weak, utterly devastated at the thought that once the London season ended he would have to part with his darling Thomas. It would not do, it simply would not do. Philip would not stand for it. He could not be weak and he could not be so careless, it was so no longer affordable in any sense of the word.

 

Exactly one month later, he had been enticed to visit Downton Abbey, the home of Thomas’s employers, with a tip-off from his love that Lady Mary’s suitor, her cousin Patrick Crawley had died. The Crawley’s were respectable, wealthy and most importantly, he had the opportunity to end his relationship with Thomas in person.

_“One swallow doesn’t make a summer.”_

Thomas had been enraged, devastated, utterly betrayed and terribly hurt. He held Thomas back when the boy had lunged at him in a desperate attempt to save the letters that had been thrown into the fire. It had taken every ounce of Philip to supress his longing to pull Thomas closer, whispering, “darling, this hurts me more, I promise you. Instead he had stood tall and firmly held his ground, he was even able to Had Philip been an actor, he would have received high praise for his performance.

The one thing that Thomas Barrow would never know is that Philip had taken steps to ensure that a souvenir would survive to remind him of his brief love affair with the footman. It was not the letters that had burned, only their envelopes. Killing two birds with one stone, Philip had gained a reminder and protection.

Yes, one swallow doesn’t make a summer.

 

“No,” Philip whispered, “it makes a lifetime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, please feel free to leave a comment if you wish, I will reply.
> 
> Philip was still a bit of an arse in this but all things considered, his behaviour is understandable. The romantic dreamer within my soul screams for a story where Philip decides that he would take Thomas on as his valet after all and the pair elope to Tangiers where they befried Peter Pelham, the Marquess of Hexham.
> 
> Oh...now I have an idea for a love triangle. Someone stop me!


End file.
